Thursday, March 2, 2017

I love women. And it's easy to see why. Being the lead guitarist for the country's hottest band, Lightning Strikes, has them practically jumping into my bed and walking out the door just as quick. Which is perfect for me. Emotions complicate things, and I don't do complicated. Not anymore.

Sure, I was in love once, and it was great. Then it was gone. That's when I vowed never again. Life is better without empty, broken promises.

After five years of hard work, sacrifices, and determination, everything I've ever wanted is in my grasp: a successful career, touring city after city and being accountable to no one.

Then she starts appearing in the crowds. The girl I once loved, and who walked away.

Only, Tatum Mitchell wasn't just any girl; she was my girl.

Will she be the wedge that drives the last part of my heart away, or will she break down the walls I've built? We're connected through the lyrics of our heart and the notes of our past, but is that enough?

*May be read as a standalone*

Prologue

Sunlight dances across the room as the warm spring breeze carries the scent of the blooming lilacs through the open window. Tatum’s musical laugh hits me as I tackle her to the bed, her blond hair fanning out around her. When I suggested we skip school to stay home all day, I didn’t actually think she’d go along with it. She was hesitant at first, but when I told her my parents were gone, the little devil inside her wanted to come out and play.

And here we are, locked away in our own private oasis where we can be free. In one month, we’ll be free to do this all the time. No more glaring eyes or disapproving faces from the losers at school and the teachers who keep breaking us apart. Why isn’t it appropriate to make out with your girlfriend in the hallway?

I’ve been in love with Tatum Mitchell for ten years. She only known about it for two. Now, with senior year coming to an end, we’ll have more carefree days like this. And we won’t have to skip school to be together.

“Myles! Stop! You’re going to make me pee my pants.” I can’t help but continue my assault. Her laughter is addictive. I can never get enough of it.

“No. You’re at my mercy. I’m kidnapping you to be my love slave and obey my every command.”

It’s not entirely a joke. There have been many nights where I’ve dreamed of us going away, leaving everything behind. We’d live off the money from the gigs and random bars we’d play in. Then, one day, we’ll strike it big, get the giant house and recording contracts and live happily ever after.

“Love slave?” She sits up after I relent and pull back. “You need to think of something else because that’s not happening.”

I tap my chin. “Sex slave?”

Tatum narrows her eyes. “Try harder.”

“Mine forever?”

Her glorious smile melts my heart. This woman is my everything. There’s no one on this earth that will ever compare to her. I can’t believe I’ve found the one.

“Well, how many little me’s could you tolerate running after?” I ask, brushing some hair from her face.

She laughs. “If they’re exactly like you? Maybe one. But if they’re like me, probably three.”

“And if they’re a good combination of us both?”

“Then four,” she says with a laugh.

Out of nowhere, images of Tatum pregnant with our child pop into my head. Kids have never been on my radar, but the thought of rubbing her swollen belly and feeling our baby kick brings a smile to my face. It’s the ultimate way to mark her as mine.

Not to mention her boobs are going to be huge for a few years. Added bonus for me.

“Okay, what else?” She runs her hand down my shirt, tracing my abs. I flex them a little, just so she has more to maneuver around.

Her lips connect with mine, teasing and tasting, coaxing me to open for her. A change of events, but one I’m willing to comply. Her sweetness runs over my tongue as I take the kiss further, locking her in my arms.

She pulls away, breathless and panting. “I’ll follow you wherever you go.”

“And what if I’m a plumber?” Not likely. Doing anything that doesn’t involve the guitar isn’t an option. I’ll play lowly gigs at the bars my whole life before that’ll happen.

“Then I’ll be the best plumber’s wife out there.”

I slip my hand under her waistband, playing with the top of her panties. “And if you become the world’s greatest guitarist, I’ll gladly be your back-up.”

Finding my way past her barrier, I find the smooth, wet skin I’m looking for. Her eyes light up with excitement as I play with her body.

“Kiss me.” It’s a request she doesn’t have to ask twice for.

Rolling her over, I lose myself into the woman I love, who’s going to give me everything I’ve ever hoped and dreamed for.

The room spins as I sit up in bed, my heart frantically trying to stay in my chest. Looking around, everything’s different. This isn’t my room or my bed. My guitars aren’t in the corner, nor are my music sheets scattered across the desk.

And the woman sleeping next to me is a stranger, another nameless face to occupy my nights.
Why does this dream keep happening? It was the past, long gone and buried. Or so I thought.

Plans change, shit happens. People leave.

Who needs plans? I’m living in the right now, worrying about no one but me.

And that’s how I want it.

Jodie Larson lives along the shores of Lake Superior in northern Minnesota with her husband and four beautiful daughters. Writing has always been something she enjoys and uses it as an escape, in addition to getting lost in her numerous books. Her family is highly supportive of both her love for reading and writing. A lover of all things happily ever after, she writes romantic novels because the world could use a little more love.

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